


Delivering Desire

by keyflight790



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Dracos a computer nerd, Harry's a delivery boy, He has a package for Draco, M/M, No Top/Bottom, mentions of wanking, quite a few actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 15:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18995089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keyflight790/pseuds/keyflight790
Summary: FLOO: The Food and Lifestyle Online Organization designed to deliver your every desire.Harry's a delivery boy, and can't wait to give Draco a package.





	Delivering Desire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AkaShika](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkaShika/gifts).



> Aka, you put this idea in my head at least six months ago, and I meant to have it done by your birthday, but alas, we are several months from February. So...consider this a belated birthday gift, lovely. I have so much fun talking about our boys and all the other crazy things in our lives. I hope you enjoy this....whatever this is.
> 
> Not smut. I know. I'm as shocked as you are.
> 
> Heaps of thanks to my beta, @dewitty1, and my britpicker, @april-thelightfury115. Thanks for the cheerleading and love, y'all.

Draco hadn’t left his flat for a while. No point, really. The only people he tended to visit were his best friend, Blaise, who always seemed to be heading to one party or another, and his mother who had gone to the South of France for the summer.

He really didn’t need to leave, either, which was convenient. He was a busy computer programmer, putting in hours upon hours on his laptop, usually astride his futon couch, but sometimes at his makeshift desk in the corner of his living room. 

The lifestyle suited him. Wake up, shower, dress. Log in to his email for his assignments, write a bit of code. Head to bed and do it all over again.  

Ever since the war, since he saw what he had seen and done what he had done, Draco found comfort in his routine.  He knew exactly what to expect. He could rely on his flat and his code and his bed to provide him with everything he needed.

If it didn’t, well, there was always the internet.

And that’s how, on that blustery Tuesday afternoon, Draco found an online advertisement for a home-delivery grocery service. 

_ FLOO: The Food and Lifestyle Online Organization designed to deliver your every desire. _

Draco quickly signed up, filling in his credit card information before he placed an order for a bag of Cheetos puffs, a large Coca-Cola, and some chicken slices for lunch.  He added in box of mint oreos and a 9-pack of two-ply at the last moment, remembering he was almost out and clicked the bright orange  _ Submit _ button at the bottom of the webpage. 

He didn’t think anything more of it until his doorbell rang around an hour later.

Marking his last bit of code as his new starting point, Draco stood and walked carelessly to the door, and opened it wide.

“Right, so we’ve got some crisps, chicken, mint Oreos, and your toilet paper, Mr., er….”

Draco took in a sharp breath.  The man in front of him, dark raven hair swept up into a neat bun at the top of his head, piercing green eyes resting behind thick black frames, was digging through his parcels.

He was the most attractive man Draco had ever seen. 

“Malfoy,” he choked out. He knew his face had gone a splotchy red, and he was suddenly unsure what exactly he should be doing with his hands as the man framing his doorway held out his own.

"Your...groceries, Malfoy?”

_ Oh, shit.  Take the food, you berk. _

“Right.” He wrapped his fingers around the straps of the bags. Draco gasped slightly when their knuckles barely brushed, sending a shiver down his spine. “Thank you,” he added at the last minute, lifting the toilet paper in a weird sort of wave.

“Those cookies are my favourite,” the delivery man said with a chuckle. “My flatmate thinks they taste like chocolate-covered toothpaste, but I think they’re delicious.”

Draco just stood there, dumbfounded, his mouth agape.

“Well, I hope I exceeded your every desire,” the other man chuckled softly, and shot him a wink before turning on his heels and heading back to the street. 

\--

Draco sat in his wheely chair, unable to concentrate on the blinking cursor on his screen.  He recounted every brief moment with the FLOO-god, trying to memorize his clear, emerald eyes, the hint of a smile on his lips. 

That wink.  _ That wink _ .

Draco considered himself a practical man. Studious, meticulous. Not the type that would waste quality work hours with his mind in the gutter. 

And yet here he was, a blinking cursor on his screen and his mind filled with the filthiest of thoughts.

It was nice, actually. It’d been a while since he’d conversed with someone face to face, and even longer since he’d felt...well...anything.

He had to see him again.

Draco spent the remaining hours of his day planning out the perfect shopping list. He wanted to seem bright, and funny, smart, and healthy. How would he do that just through items from the store? 

When he hit the orange submit button again, he rushed to the showers to prepare for his delivery.

\---

He heard the rapt of knuckles on his door, and checked his hair in the mirror before twisting the knob. His hair was slicked back, smooth, and he changed into a clean shirt and trousers, ones that weren’t covered in dust and . 

“A head of lettuce, three vitamin waters, and,” he paused, barely lifting a bag off the ground, “two ten kilogram weights.” 

Draco smirked until he picked up the bag.  _ Shit it was heavy. _

“Need me to bring that inside for you?” the delivery man asked, throwing in a wink as Draco clenched his teeth.

“No, I’ve,” he pulled upward, begging his weak muscles to fucking cooperate. “Got it,” he spat as he finally lugged the heavy bag inside. 

“Anything else, Malfoy?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. 

“Your name?” Draco asked, in a rare streak of confidence. He had, after all, successfully drug in twenty kilograms of weight into his foyer. 

“Potter,” the delivery man said with a cheeky smile. “You can call me Potter.”

\---

Potter.  _ Potter. Potter. Potter. _

He kept repeating it for the next couple of days, humming it while he wrote code, mumbling it while he was in the shower, moaning it while he was in bed. 

Draco figured three days was the acceptable time to wait for contacting someone after a date, so it must be alright for placing another FLOO order.

The weights were still in his hallway, collecting dust, but he had thrown a towel over them, hiding them from the front door. He’d get to them eventually, after he worked up to the heaviness. Maybe start with five.

From an outsider, Draco’s next order would look...plain, almost boring. But it made Draco blush as red as a tomato when he finally worked up the courage to press the button, whisking away his dirty shopping list to one, Mr. bloody attractive Potter.

He barely found the remaining courage to answer the door, coughing out a “Good to see you, Potter,” in a vain attempt to seem casual.

“Malfoy,” Potter chuckled. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” He pulled out a list, printed in black ink with the now recognizable FLOO logo at the top. “A bundle of asparagus, a bag of peaches, some aubergine,” he coughed, his cheeks darkening slightly, “extra-thick cucumbers and a full-length baguette?”

“Yes, full-length,” he murmured, cursing inwardly at his previous confidence. As if he expected Potter to  _ not _ read the entirety of his list as he entered it into his computer?

“Good to know,” Potter laughed. “Mind if I put these on your table in there?”

Draco gulped. “My  _ kitchen _ table?”

“Sure. Or a sofa, if you’d prefer? Any solid surface really.”

_ Fuck. _

Draco eyed the weights behind him, the messy computer table still covered with salty snacks and sugary sodas, the sofa covered with trackies and dirty sneakers. 

“I-I can take them in, thank you,” he answered, reaching for the bags. He realized how snooty he sounded, how much of an opportunity to have Potter in his home, potentially with the door closed and the shades drawn, late for his next FLOO order because he was otherwise occupied.

But he just couldn’t imagine showing someone else what a mess the entirety of his life had become. Not yet, at least.

“Alright then. See you next time, Malfoy,” Potter shrugged before heading out into the bright sun.

\---

Draco cleaned the entirety of his flat, starting with his desk, moving on to the sofa. He opened the blinds, changed the sheets, dusted his bookshelf. Finally, his flat felt warm, inviting, clean, and presentable. 

The change made him feel more awake than he had in awhile. He even began running again, only a mile, and it felt good, the constant pace, the sound of his feet hitting the pavement. 

Apparently his body couldn’t handle the abrupt change in lifestyle. The next morning after his run he awoke in cold sweats, a tickle in his throat and his nose stuffed. 

He called his friend Blaise, who came over with his mothers famous chicken noodle soup and stories of his latest flings.

“It’s bad enough I can’t breathe, but now I have to hear you talk about all the birds you’ve pulled?” Draco pouted, pulling his comforter closer to his chin.

“You’re the one that invited me over.” Blaise snapped the lid closed on the soup container, and tucked it back into his rucksack. “What else do you need?”

“Tissues, and some of that cough medicine I like?” Draco put on his best pouty face.

“Blackcurrant cough medicine and extra tissues, and….sent!” Blaise smiled triumphantly.

Draco raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean, sent?”

“I mean, it’ll be here in an hour. FLOO-ed it.”

“No.” 

“Yes?”

“NO!”

“Yes…”

“Shit.”

“I didn’t put toilet paper on there, but I can put in another order?” Blaise tilted his head in confusion.

Draco buried his head into his hands in defeat, and began to explain.

\---

When they heard the knock on the door, Draco begged Blaise to open it.

“Don’t tell him I’m here!”

Blaise nodded. “I know, I know,” he agreed as he walked towards the door.

“Mal- oh, hello.” Potter said curtly. “I’m delivering for Mr. Malfoy, is he around?”

“He’s not, but I can accept these for him.” Blaise reached for the bags. 

“And you are?” Potter asked, a sliver of agitation in his voice.

“A friend,” Blaise said, reaching for the bags again.

“A boyfriend?” 

“A friend,” Blaise repeated, holding out his hands. 

“It’s just - well it looked like Malfoy wasn’t feeling well so I added in a couple of tea bags and some honey. Always makes me feel better when I have a cough.”

“Isn’t that nice,” Blaise said, cutting his eyes towards Draco, who sat frozen on his sofa, wrapped in a blanket. “I’ll make sure he knows how  _ thoughtful _ you were.”

“Erm. Please do.”

“Thanks, Potter!” Blaise said, finally grabbing the bags from his hands.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Blaise waited a moment before shutting the door and setting the bags on Draco’s kitchen table.

“Oh he wants you,” he laughed. “Over any solid surface, eh?”

“Shut up,” Draco threw a pillow in his direction. “Do you really think so?”

\---

It took a couple of days before Draco was finally feeling better, for the colour to return to his cheeks and his nose to stop running like a bloody tap.

He showered, combed his hair, and put on a shirt that complimented his eyes, then pressed the orange button one more time.

Potter appeared at his door in record time.

“A bouquet of flowers and some mint Oreos.” He thrust the package into Draco’s arms. “These for your boyfriend?”

“Actually,” Draco handed the parcel back. “They’re for you.”

Potter smiled, holding the flowers up to his nose and taking a whiff.

“Maybe we could go get tea sometime? Or coffee, or whatever. So I can say thank you for the honey. It, well, it really helped.”

“I could come pick you up, since I already know where you live?” Potter grinned, opening up the Oreos and offering one to Draco. 

“Sounds great. Friday?” He said, before taking a bite of sweet chocolate and mint.

“Friday it is.”


End file.
